


Note from the Inquisitorial Archives #7

by professorplum221



Series: Notes from the Inquisitorial Archives [7]
Category: Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Alcohol, BDSM, Bondage, F/M, Face Slapping, Roleplay, Safewords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:40:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28713672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professorplum221/pseuds/professorplum221
Summary: Another unpublished document from the memoirs of Commissar Ciaphas Cain regarding his relationship with Inquisitor Amberley Vail, likely held back from wider circulation due to its personal and somewhat salacious nature
Relationships: Ciaphas Cain/Amberley Vail
Series: Notes from the Inquisitorial Archives [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043088
Kudos: 4





	Note from the Inquisitorial Archives #7

_ Archival note: The following is another unpublished and unannotated document from the memoirs of Commissar Ciaphas Cain, regarding his relationship with Inquisitor Amberley Vail. I suspect once more that Inquisitor Vail chose to hold this one back from wider circulation due to its personal and somewhat salacious nature, not to mention the evidence it includes of inappropriate use of inquisitorial regalia and divulgence of classified interrogation techniques. Scholars are therefore cautioned against following the shocking example she sets within this episode. _

_ \- Underscribe P. Plumb, 137.M42 _

Amberley had really outdone herself with the set-up for our rendezvous that night.

The hotel suite she had installed herself in for the duration of her current investigation was even more secluded and luxurious than usual, and evidently, she was determined to take advantage of it. She'd put a great deal of effort into tying me up with a series of complex knots, leaving me completely at her mercy, which I don't mind admitting was one of my favourite positions to be in. She was even wearing her official inquisitorial rosette around her neck, which suited her beautifully—although I can't imagine that the rest of the revealing ensemble she was wearing would have been approved for use in the field. I doubt the leather crop she was lightly running along my chest was standard issue either, but I was enthralled enough by her performance to be ready to believe it was a real interrogation, and confess to whatever she wanted.

"Ciaphas Cain," she addressed me in an impressively icy tone. "You stand before the Holy Orders of the Emperor's Inquisition on charges of blasphemy, cowardice in the face of the Great Enemy, conspiracy to commit treason, and consorting with members of the borderline heretical cult of the Omnissiah. How do you plead?"

The look on her face was the exact brand of terrifying that I found completely thrilling, the bite of the crop against my thigh similarly enticing in its sting. Really, it was all perfect—which was why I was horribly disappointed to have to interrupt her.

"Uh . . . Taurox."

The minute the completely incongruous word left my lips, Amberley dropped the act entirely, her body language completely changing as her face snapped into an expression of concern.

"Are you alright? Did I really hurt you?"

"Well, it's nothing really—I hate to stop you—it's just that my whole frakking left arm's gone numb."

She descended onto the bed next to me immediately, rushing to untie the offending implements. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have tied it that tightly—I got a bit carried away."

"It's alright, really." I rubbed my arm with the other hand once she had freed me enough to do so, gradually reinvigorating it with some feeling. "I was enjoying it so much otherwise that I really didn't want to say anything. I was honestly debating how bad it would be to just replace the whole arm with augmetics for a moment there."

Amberley sighed in frustration as she removed the remaining restraints."Ciaphas, you need to stop me earlier next time if it's that much of an issue. I don't want to worry about you being seriously uncomfortable when I'm—"

"I'm joking. It's alright." I sat up, using the renewed function of my left arm to reach toward her and caress her face. "See? Good as new."

"And you won't wait so long next time, if something like that happens again?"

"Promise."

After a moment of silence, during which I assumed she was searching my eyes for signs of honesty, she smiled. "Well, let's take a break. I'll run a bath for you."

"Thank you."

She left me alone in the bedroom for a few quiet minutes that I used to stretch out my slightly stiff arms and legs. When I joined her in the bathroom, I found it just as opulent as the rest of the hotel suite, and dimly lit by several fragrant candles on the marble counter.

Amberley looked up at me and turned off the faucet of an especially large bathtub. "I'll be right back," she said with a kiss.

I turned my head to enjoy the view of her leaving, and then sunk into the warm water. She had somehow adjusted the temperature perfectly to my preference, which felt positively decadent after years of becoming begrudgingly accustomed to the ice-cold showers one usually gets with a Valhallan regiment. I could feel the taut muscles of my back reaching a state of relaxation I had practically forgotten they were able to achieve.

And it was one of the most welcome sights I've ever laid eyes on when Amberley returned a moment later fully nude, her long blonde hair loosely tied into a bun, and—to make the picture even more perfect than I would have thought possible—a glass of amasec in each hand. She passed one of them to me before sliding into the opposite end of the bath, her hips nestled between my ankles.

I took a sip of my drink and smiled. "This is good amasec."

"I have good taste." She skimmed the fingers of her free hand across the surface of the warm water before bringing them to rest on my chest.

"You certainly do. Do you live this life of luxury all the time, or only when you have someone to impress?"

"As often as I can. It's not always possible, of course, depending on the job. But I'm in high enough standing with the Inquisition that I can usually secure more than enough funding to live comfortably wherever they send me, and I always say life is far too short and unpredictable not to enjoy whatever small indulgences are available."

"I completely agree. Maybe I should have become an inquisitor."

She threw her head back in joyfully mocking laughter, almost spilling her drink before coming to her senses enough to speak. " _ You _ , an inquisitor? Every time I ask you to help me out in an investigation, you hate it."

"That's not true." I smiled, entwining my fingers with hers. "I'm not always entirely pleased with your dangerous methods, but I'm still here, aren't I? I can clearly handle it."

"You're only still here because I make it worth your while," she purred, sinking deeper into the bath and stretching out her wonderfully toned legs. "Besides, you'd also have to spend a lot of time interrogating people, and I don't know if you'd be any good at that bit."

"Well, I've done my fair share of getting information out of uncooperative subjects in my time too," I protested—although a glance up and down the contours of her body certainly made her argument about my motives seem convincing. "How much harder can a formal interrogation be? I mean . . . it's not  _ actually _ anything like what you were doing earlier, is it?"

She inclined her head, a playful smirk on her lips. "Would you be jealous if it was?"

I chuckled. "I'd have some questions about what exactly it's meant to achieve, is all."

She savoured a sip of her drink before beginning her explanation. "Well, besides the obvious fact that none of those crimes I was accusing you of were the sort of thing my department handles at all, a real interrogation wouldn't be nearly so intense at the very beginning. There are several different levels we escalate to depending on the severity of the crime and the reactions of the subject. Level one is entirely verbal questioning."

"What, so first you'd ask me nicely if I happen to have collaborated with any xenos lately?"

"Something like that. And level two is still only threats of relatively minor physical harm."

"Like what?"

She smiled slyly and took a deep breath. Then she sat rigidly upright, and her voice almost entirely transformed with the next words that came out of her mouth, gaining an intimidating edge that sent a shiver right through me.

"The next question you refuse to answer, I'll strike you once across the face. Remain uncooperative after that, and you'll find me even less forgiving."

"And if I were to stay silent?" I asked, leaning toward her unconsciously, my words coming out in almost a whisper.

"I'd hit you, of course. I don't bluff."

"Then do it."

Slowly, she reached for one of the soft white towels of various sizes that hung around the bathroom, using it to carefully dry each of her pale fingers individually before drawing her hand back in a gesture of warning.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

I heard the smack of her hand against my cheek ringing out for an instant before I felt the pain. I cried out instinctively, the sound emanating from my lips soon morphing into a sigh as the fleeting sensation dulled. She smiled, the candlelight dancing in her blue eyes.

"Of course, that wouldn't work on you at all if someone tried it seriously, since you so  _ clearly _ enjoy it." The Amberley I knew was back, an instantaneous change of atmosphere taking hold of the room as she cheerfully knocked back a swig of amasec.

"Oh, absolutely." I reached for my own drink, a faint tremor in my hand. "You'd get nothing out of me except a request to do it again. You'd have to escalate to the next level."

"Unfortunately, that one's more physical pain combined with psychological manipulation. And if you're still not helpful after that, the psychic interrogation starts."

"Ah." I took a sip. "Then that's where I'd have to draw the line for our rather less official purposes, I suppose."

Amberley shrugged. "I wouldn't be able to do that by myself anyway. I'd have to bring in Rakel."

I almost shuddered at the prospect. "And I don't want that woman within two metres of me under  _ any _ circumstances, let alone in the bedroom."

"But levels two and three—you're happy with those ones?"

"Oh, the ones where you threaten to hit me, and then you do? Yes, quite."

I set my glass back on the side of the bathtub as she lifted her hand again and raised a questioning eyebrow. I nodded, and she struck me a second time in exactly the same spot, the resulting heightened sting both excruciating and sweet. My response this time was a low moan that seemed to bring even more fire to Amberley's eyes.

She drained her glass of amasec. "Do you want to go back to bed?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

We hastily dried ourselves off in the wafting smoke of the extinguished candles before resuming our earlier position. She was gentle and careful with the re-application of the restraints, requesting reassurance about my comfort with them several times—but the moment all was in place, she drew herself up to a menacing posture and looked down on me with exquisitely feigned contempt.

"Ciaphas Cain," she addressed me once more, her voice harsh and her eyes cold. "You stand before the Holy Orders of the Emperor's Inquisition on charges of blasphemy—"

"I've definitely done a bit of that," I interjected with a smile, my much-improved attitude putting me more in my usual mood for amusing retorts.

"—cowardice in the face of the Great Enemy—"

"Also very true."

"—conspiracy to commit treason—"

"Now that one I think you're just making up, unless the Inquisition has an especially loose definition of both 'conspiracy' and 'treason.'"

"—and consorting with members of the borderline heretical cult of the Omnissiah."

"That one's true again, though, and I definitely can't try to deny it, because you were there too."

"How do you plead?" she asked, evidently failing to suppress an out-of-character smile at my uncalled-for commentary.

"To most of it?" I grinned. "Extremely guilty. Do your worst, Inquisitor."

She shook her head, a faint chuckle on her lips. "I'm adding 'talking back too much' to your list of crimes."

"Sounds like you'd better stop me from doing it, then."

"Oh, I will."

And to her credit, she managed to find several creative ways to do so before the night was over.

**Author's Note:**

> The whole bit about the Inquisition having a list of different levels of interrogation is apparently canon, according to wh40k.lexicanum.com/wiki/Action! Thanks for reading.


End file.
